


Notes

by silver_ring5



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: JOKER Yurusarezaru Sosakan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_ring5/pseuds/silver_ring5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since filming for JOKER ended, and Ryo still cannot get his co-star off his mind. He'd been attracted to Sakai Masato during filming, but when Ryo had made his move, he was rejected. Twice. So he knows he should move on, and Ryo tries desperately to forget Masato. . . but it's hard.<br/>One night, Ryo finds solace in writing notes, hoping that if he writes down the memories, they'll stop haunting his dreams and plaguing his thoughts. But instead, the notes seem to take on lives of their own, forcing him to take actions he'd refused to consider before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notes

Nishikido Ryo blinked. Once, twice, probably fifteen times, and then ran a hand through the hair falling over his eyes. His hair was cool, his pillow was cool. The AC in the room was running at the perfect temp. His bed was clean; all sheets and blankets tucked as they should be. But still, Ryo was restless. The soft white light from the street below cast a glow from his window, and while that wouldn’t have bothered him before, it did now. He couldn’t close his eyes to it.

Although, really, it wasn’t the light that was keeping him awake. It was more that uncomfortable, clenching feeling in his chest. The sort of twisted pain that could be forgotten during the busy daylight hours, but just ended up chewing away at him at night. 

He couldn’t escape it, and he definitely didn’t want to think about the reason for it. Every time he let his guard down or closed his eyes long enough to approach rest, images from the past would flash across his memory. Glimpses of a hand, a lean silhouette . . . a smile. It was even worse when the memories of his voice infiltrated Ryo’s mind. Just thinking about the way Masato would whisper his lines to himself before shooting a scene sent an unwelcome shiver through Ryo, starting at his collarbone and running to his toes.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, and Ryo didn’t want to feel this way. Why couldn’t he get Sakai Masato out of his head? 

It had been almost two years since they’d finished filming Joker Yurusarezaru Sosakan, almost as long since Masato had spoken to him. Ryo should have forgotten him by now. He should have moved on, just like he had when any of his previous relationships ended-- and they hadn’t even had a relationship. All they shared was a singular kiss. Just one.

But it was a good one.

Throwing the comforter off, Ryo swung his legs out of bed and grabbed his pajama pants off the chair. Muttering as he put them on, Ryo couldn’t help but remember that night all those months ago. The entire cast and crew were celebrating the finale, the high-ratings, the possible nominations, and the probable go-ahead from the network for the SP. Ryo, himself, was all elegant sex. Perfectly-fitted suit undone around the edges, messy hair: the works. Nishikido Ryo should have been irresistible.

And for most of the night, he thought he was. He wasn’t the lead in the dorama, so he was able to observe a good bit of the celebration revolving around Masato from the sidelines. Of course, he received his fair share of attention, but it wasn’t too bad. The drinks weren’t coming at him at the speed they were for Masato.

So by the time the crowd started to thin out, Masato was just a bit tipsy and flushed. He wasn’t a fool though. He hadn’t drank more than he could handle safely. Masato was too old and familiar with the business to not drink responsibly-- but that didn’t mean he wasn’t riding cloud 9 as the wee hours of the morning approached. All the pressures of shooting and memorizing lines, etc., were (at least for the moment) behind him. Now was the time to let loose, have a little fun before hitting the grind again.

Ryo, feeling very much the same, recognized this was his opportunity. He wasn’t sure when during the shooting that he began to not only respect Masato, not only to value their friendship as co-stars, but to want him. Ryo thinks it was when they shot the night scene at the end of the second episode, but he couldn’t say for sure. Couldn’t say that his desire for his senpai hadn’t kindled before that moment, but, regardless, he could still vividly feel the rush of warmth to his groin and the sparks in his chest. He hadn’t expected to react that way, and he immediately wanted to investigate it-- but he held back. Knew he had to bide his time during filming. The night of celebrating felt like the right time to make his move and confront Masato. 

Ryo shook his head as he remembered that night, how he’d followed Masato up a stairwell (Masato had a penchant for taking the stairs) and stopped him at a landing by tugging the older man’s shirt sleeve.

“Masa-kun,” Ryo had said, smile flashing, “Wait a second.”

Masato had jumped, unaware that Ryo had been behind him (probably a sign he was a little worse, or better, for wine) and smiled widely when he recognized his co-star. Masato had always liked Ryo, told him so fairly often, because they got along easily together. It had never been a strain for them to fall in sync with each other’s work schedules/behaviours. Little did he know that Ryo was about to throw a wrench in that relationship.

“Hey, what is--?!” Masato started, but Ryo grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled Masato’s body against his own, lips crushing his senpai’s. The older man took a step or two backwards as Ryo pressed against him, but didn’t push him away. At first, he didn’t do anything as Ryo continued moving his lips over his, and Ryo wondered if the desire was one-sided (which probably would have changed everything), but then Masato came alive.

It was like a switch flipped in his head, and the anniki actor opened his mouth to Ryo’s kiss, taking the lead from him. As soon as Ryo parted his lips in return, Masato’s tongue was stroking daringly against Ryo’s-- tasting, teasing, taunting. Masato’s kiss was a hot onslaught of a response, and within moments Masato was pushing Ryo against the wall, hands running roughly up the front of Ryo’s shirt.

And Ryo, Ryo was ecstatic. His entire body was on fire; hot lust rapidly flooding beneath his navel. He was so certain this night was going exactly the way he wanted it to-- and that it was going to very quickly get even better.

He was wrong.

Suddenly Masato was stepping away, shaking his head. He put his hands out in front of him, as if to keep Ryo from getting close to him again. “I shouldn’t have done that. This isn’t right. This isn’t what you want.” 

“Oh no,” Ryo smiled, thinking he could easily salvage the situation, “This is definitely what I want.”

“No, damn it, it’s not,” Masato’s voice turned harsh, “You’re just drunk, kid. Go home.” 

Ryo tried to protest, tried to stop him, but Masato shook him off and before he knew it, they were walking out of the stairwell into an area with crew members, co-actors, etc., and Ryo couldn’t say anything. Masato smiled brightly at everyone as he said goodbye, and then he was gone. 

All Ryo could do was go home alone.

But he hadn’t given up. That kiss haunted him, so Ryo became determined while filming the  
Joker Yurusarezaru Sosakan SP to prove to Masato that he was serious about him. That he really wanted him. 

But Masato wasn’t having it. One night after Ryo confronted Masato in his dressing room, Masato responded with, “You want me for what? For a quick fuck? For a relationship? For what Ryo? I’m too old to be playing these sort of games, and I’ve worked too hard to blow it on a hot-blooded young thing like you. You know why you want me, Ryo? Because you can’t have me. That’s it, and I’ve never been good at handling that sort of thing. I don’t need the emotional upheaval that’ll result from a night with you. So, please, just leave me alone.”

Masato had started angry, but his tone was somehow sad by the end. Ryo reached out to touch Masato’s arm, but Masato snatched it away from him and flew out the door. Ryo called after him, didn’t care who heard, but Masato never turned back. 

They didn’t speak alone after that. Masato never answered his calls again, never chatted between the variety shows they appeared on together. It was over. Ryo had failed.

Ryo, now shuffling around his kitchen in the middle of the night wearing nothing but pajama pants, was still thinking about Sakai Masato. Even though he was dead sure Masato had completely forgotten about him, and even though he wanted to move on, he couldn’t seem to get over him. Instead of getting easier with time, Ryo felt like it was getting harder. The memories were becoming even worse as they haunted him. He couldn’t escape it, and if he didn’t get this emotional issue under control soon, Ryo knew it would soon be reflected in his work.

And Nishikido Ryo absolutely would not allow that.

Looking down abruptly, realizing he’d stopped in front of his counter, he saw his notepad and pencil laying on the cold marble. Biting his lip, not sure what he was doing exactly, Ryo grabbed the pencil and fiercely wrote:

_I remember the way you’d chew your cheek when you watched a colleague struggle. You knew he had to figure it out on his own, but it killed you not to help._

That was the most recent memory that flashed into his mind, and he scribbled it down without another thought. Feeling a moment of relief, Ryo ripped off that note, folded it up, and immediately scratched down another:

_I remember how your voice would brighten when you saw me coming, back before it got bad between us._

There was another cool moment of relief, and Ryo pulled up a stool. By the time the sun was peeking over the buildings next to his, he had a small pile of notes splayed across the counter. His notepad was down to the cardboard backing.

This is it! Ryo was sure this was the way to escape the memories. 

Weeks passed, and every day Ryo would write down the memories as little notes that he could fold up and tuck away in his house. He’d put them in drawers, between books on shelves, under cushions, in winter coat pockets. . .Just places he could easily find them but not have to look at them. And at first, things got better. He felt better, and that was reflected in his work with Kanjani8 and his acting.

But then the notes started to pile up. Quite a few were repeats, or versions of each other (Ryo wasn’t chronically romantic... at least, not yet.), and he was running out of places to stick them. Soon, instead of feeling better, Ryo was feeling worse. 

Not only did he have to deal with the memories in his head, but now they had a physical presence in his daily life. Not good. He’d messed up with this one.

Even more troublesome was the fact that Ryo couldn’t bring himself to throw the notes away. He could barely touch them, hated the sinking feeling he’d get when he looked at them, but was absolutely sure he couldn’t destroy them. So, he took to avoiding going home. 

“What’s wrong with Ryo?” a concerned Maru asked one night after the gang decided to hit up a bar near the venue they’d be performing in.

“I don’t even know anymore. A lot,” Ryo responded, cringing at his honesty. Immediately he wished he’d lied. Maru was being nice, he didn’t really need to know that Ryo was having issues.

“Is it about work? Do you need a break?” Yasu piped before sipping his drink.

“Nah, it’s not that. Actually, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Ryo wanted to turn the conversation away from himself, but Yoko leaned in.

“It’s love then, huh?” 

“What? No.” Ryo responded quickly, and thankfully, it seemed the rest of the guys were willing to let it go after that. Or they were, until it was time to go.

As they were filing out the door, Yoko flashed him a knowing glance and a small smile, “Don’t just let it make you miserable. If you’re in love, you can’t give up.”

And then he was off, loud and laughing through the doorway. Ryo balked at the word “love.” He’d avoided considering it before... but perhaps he was. Maybe. 

At least it was better than “insane.”

So, okay. If he’s possibly in love with a man who refuses to look at him, let alone speak to him, Ryo was going to need to come up with a plan. A good one, this time. One that cannot fail. As he lied in bed that night, Ryo didn’t feel so pressured by the notes around him, because finally, he was going to do whatever it took to get Masato.

And then, Ryo was fairly positive, he was never going to let go.

The first thing Ryo does when he takes on any new job or role is research. So he sat down and thought about what Masato likes. Besides acting, what does Masato love? Literature, right? Didn’t he go to school for Chinese Lit.? And as Ryo thought more about it, he remembered that Masato had published that book, _Bun_. When you write a book titled “Literature,” you obviously care a great deal about it.

So Ryo wanted to care more about it too. He flipped open his laptop and searched popular Chinese Literature. After spending the morning studying the results, he grabbed his keys from the shelf and drove to the bookstore. Sure, he got scolded for popping into a public place, but it was worth it-- and he was quick.

The weeks passed more easily this time, Ryo working towards a goal instead of working to escape. He did his best to soak in the literature, attracting some confused looks and raised eyebrows from his fellow members of Eito. 

“Are you studying for some sort of role you want?” Subaru asked as they were waiting backstage before a show.

“Something like that, yeah,” Ryo quipped his response, smiling. He was feeling more like himself already.

Soon he had some questions he couldn’t quite find the answers to; some complicated queries, and there were a handful of texts he couldn’t get his hands on and while an online search lead him to downloadable options, he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

So Ryo picked up his phone and called the first person he could think of who also liked to read-- and had published a book.

“Uh, hello?” 

“Shige! It’s Ryo. Do you think you could help me out with a few things? Book related things.”

“. . .” the line was quiet for a moment, then Kato responded, “Sure Ryo. I’ll meet you at the regular place. You can buy me omurice.”

Ryo brightened, “15 minutes!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryo could hear Shige smile a little too, “I’ll see you soon.”

Shige looked good, Ryo realized as he greeted his former bandmate. Better than he looked the last time they’d seen each other, that was for sure. It had rained a bit, and Shige’s softly curling hair was a little wet. Ryo had worn his hat, so he was fine.

They sat down at a booth they used to sit in quite often once upon a time, and Ryo found the familiar cracking of the red pleather comforting. He and Shige hadn’t been especially close when they were in NEWS together, but it wasn’t because they hadn’t gotten along. Whenever they had the time, they got on quite well; often going to this little hole in the wall. The only problem was, Ryo hadn’t had the time.

But as he sat there watching Shige’s dark eyes as they tried to assess the situation, he somehow found himself telling the younger man everything. Shige was a good listener and familiar with inner struggles -- and, importantly, wasn’t quick to judge. 

Shige quietly accepted and sympathized as he searched his mind for some way he could be of help. Ryo told him he was looking for some specific articles or copies of classic Chinese and some Japanese literature, and while Shige himself didn’t have access or the resources to obtain them, he thought of someone who might.

“When I was working on my book,” Shige said thoughtfully, twirling his fork, “I met an older gentleman at the publishing house. His name is Itou Kohei, and he’s obsessed with old books from all over Asia, and the rest of the world, I think.”

Shige pushed his food absentmindedly with the fork, adding, “I’ll see if I can get in touch with him again. We would talk a lot back then, so I’m pretty sure he’ll remember me. I’ll call you if he thinks he can help. Even if he can’t get you a copy of something, just talking to him might be enough.”

“Thank you, Shige,” Ryo smiled broadly, “You’re the best.”

“Hmmph,” Shige looked down, smiling slightly.

Within the month, Ryo found himself and Shige meeting regularly with Itou. Ojii-san, as they were soon inclined to call him, could talk for hours about almost all Chinese and Japanese literature. Poetry, novels, plays-- this man was an expert. It was no wonder he spent his life working in literature and publishing. His collection was remarkable as well, and Ryo found his appreciation for the classics growing as he studied it with Shige under the elderly man’s guidance. 

Shigeaki was fairly busy these days though. NEWS was keeping him on his toes just as Ryo was busy with Eito, so they didn’t always get to meet up together with Ojii-san, but they tried. Regardless, it was nice. Ryo not only felt closer to reaching Masato, even though he had yet to form a proper plan, but he also felt better sharing his problem with someone else and working toward overcoming it. 

 

Ryo was sitting in front of a mirror, waiting for the girl to come fix his hair and touch up his face before the TV weekly shoot resumed, when his phone went off. It was Shige, but he didn’t hesitate to pick it up. The rest of Kanjani8 knew better than to be threatened by the friendship. All of them were his friends too, and while he hadn’t shared everything with them, they were all too aware he was going through something that Shigeaki could help him with-- and that was okay with them.

“Ryo,” the younger man greeted him, “You said Masato was a fan of Lao She, right?”

“Yep,” Ryo replied, “Why?”

“Ojii-san just got a hold of something you should see. It’s kind of awesome,” Shige’s voice was risen with excitement, and Ryo felt his curiosity building.

“Ok,” he said, eyeing the girl approaching his face with a foundation brush, “I’ll call you after we wrap it up here.”

Shige was right. What Ojii-san had to show him was pretty awesome. Ryo, now a fairly knowledgeable fan of Lao She himself, couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

Laying on the small table, as the three of them huddled around it, was one of the early publications of Camel Xiangzi. Which, while impressive by itself since the story was originally published serially in a magazine, wasn’t everything. The real kicker was the fact the book was a copy Lao She himself had used to teach courses at Oxford-- and he had written notes in the margins of the pages!

Almost every page had a little scribbling of notes, not that Ryo could read what they said. They were written in either English or Mandarin. Ojii-san explained how the notes came to be verified, first in England, then by a colleague of his at Keio, as legitimate Lao She. 

Ryo just couldn’t believe it. So much of Lao She’s manuscripts and personal writing had been destroyed, it was incredible to be able to read the man’s actual handwriting and notes (Ryo was practically looking forward to reading the translations).

Laughing a little in his throat, Ryo muttered, “Jeez, Masato would kill to see this.”

The cheer around the little table died a little, and Ojii-san ‘hmmm’-ed thoughtfully. With a more serious tone setting in, they set to work right away, carefully turning the pages to copy each note down on pieces of paper for translation.

They were about two hours into their work when Ojii-san cleared his thoat, “All hell,” the old man muttered, breaking their studious silence, “I read that book by your Sakai Masato. He’s quite the scholar when it comes to literature... I like him.”

Ojii-san paused for a moment, as if he was unsure about what he wanted to say next, “You can... you can give this to him. I trust him to take care of it, and maybe this will help bring you together.”

The old man was obviously struggling with the idea of letting such an intriguing artifact go, but he also understood how Ryo was feeling. “I was in love once, you know,” Ojii-san grumbled, gently closing the book and holding it out to Ryo.

Ryo and Shige gaped, but then Ryo found his voice, ‘I can’t ask you to give me this, even for him.”

“You didn’t ask me to,” Ojii-san responded, “Now take it. If this doesn’t win him over, nothing will.”

So Ryo, thanking Itou profusely, took the book. Later, sitting at his desk in his house, he found himself staring at the closed text and a small piece of paper he had laying next to it. Written in small, precise handwriting was Masato’s phone number. In his right hand, Ryo was clutching his phone.

“Just call him already,” Shige told him, entering the room with mugs of tea in both hands. He sat one down on a stack of magazines next to Ryo’s desk. He wasn’t about to risk something spilling on the book.

Ryo swallowed, then nodded. Quickly, before losing the will, he punched in the number and hit send. It was ringing as Ryo brought the cell up to his ear.

“Hello?” Ryo’s eyes widened as he heard Masato’s voice for the first time in just over two years. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but somehow he responded, quietly, “Hi Masato.”

The phone was quiet for a moment, then he heard, “Ryo?”

Ryo’s heart hurt as he realized Masato hadn’t known it was him; Masato hadn’t saved his number in his phone. “Yeah, it’s me,” he tried to keep his voice steady.

“Uh hey,” Ryo could tell Masato was making an effort to sound normal, “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Ryo’s heart was thudding loudly in his chest, but he had to at least try, “I have something I’d like to show you, do you think we could--”

“I’m sorry, Ryo,” Masato cut him off, “I can’t.”

_click_

The phone line was dead. Masato was gone. Ryo blinked as he pulled his phone from his ear. Tears were already burning, and he realized that if he moved another inch, even to set the phone down, he’d break apart. So he froze, fighting to keep his breathing slow.

“I’m sorry,” Shige whispered behind him.

He left soon after that, telling Ryo to call him whenever he felt like it, for anything. Shige would come right over. It wouldn’t be a problem. Ryo, pale, nodded and heard the front door click as it closed.

Within the hour, both Yasuda and Maruyama had called his phone. Shige must have told them to check on him, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t even hit ignore. He just watched the phone ring before it went to voicemail.

At some point he must have fallen asleep at his desk, because he woke up at 1 a.m. (according to the time on his phone still clutched in his hand) in a cold sweat. Ryo felt nauseous. Oji-san had said that if this book didn’t work, nothing would. . . But Masato hadn’t even given him the chance to show him the book. He didn’t want to see Ryo at all-- still, after all this time.

Ryo’s everything seemed to hurt while, somehow, feeling completely numb at the same time. His body was turning into a contradiction. Even more horrifying was the pressure he was suddenly feeling again from the notes he’d written and stashed around him. That horrible feeling had been suppressed as he’d studied literature, first alone and then with Shige and Itou. . . but now it came rushing back. Ryo clenched his eyes against it.

Wait.

Ryo had an idea. A horrible, terrible, cannot-fail sort of idea. It was the kind of idea people just might kill him for... But he was going to do it. Because he couldn’t live this way, and because he was going to get Masato, no matter what.

Standing up suddenly from his desk made his muscles hurt after being stationary so long, but he just shrugged it off and went over to his bookshelf to collect the notes he stashed there. After he picked up those and deposited them on his desk, he went around to the various drawers, etc. where he’d stashed the others. Once he was sure he’d gotten them all, he sat back down at his desk.

Then Ryo gently opened the early publication of Camel Xiangzi and unfolded one of his notes. On the second page of the book, beneath a Lao She note in Mandarin, Ryo copied his own note on the page. Then he unfolded another and did it again, on the next page. He repeated this process until he’d written all of his notes onto the pages. Beneath, besides, around-- his notes about Masato were all over the pages of this valuable text. Every single page reflected his love.

It was a literary crime, but Ryo didn’t care. He wasn’t sorry at all.  
~~~~~  
Masato was sitting in a leather chair reading his newspaper when the doorbell rang. It was a beautiful day, but he hadn’t felt like getting up and running that day. He hadn’t felt like seeing anyone, really. He hadn’t felt like it since that call from Ryo two days before. So he was a little surprised when the bell rang, and a little embarrassed, because he had yet to get dressed that morning.

Turned out it was just the postman with a delivery that needed him to sign for confirmation. This really surprised Masato, as he hadn’t ordered anything and it wasn’t his birthday... so he ended up figuring it was something for work.

When he opened the box to find a worn, old book inside, Masato was beyond surprised and not just a little intrigued. He immediately opened it and within seconds his heart was racing as he realized what it was. Carefully setting the book down, he searched the box for a letter or at least a return address, but there wasn’t one. All that had been in the box was a book.

Oh well thought Masato. He smiled, honestly, for the first time in what felt like ages. He’d never admit this to anyone, but he’d been thinking about that kiss he’d shared with Ryo a lot lately. Actually, he’d been thinking about Ryo period lately-- and much more often than he should. 

And he’d hated himself for it. He hated the fact that he’d let that kid affect him. Masato had known he’d be hurt if he’d slept with Ryo and was rejected afterwards, and he’d tried to avoid that pain, but it seemed to have found him anyway.

But this book... it was already lessening the pain. Such an incredible treasure, and someone had just given it to him. Masato couldn’t believe it. He quick checked his schedule for the day in case he had to cancel any plans, because Masato knew he wasn’t going anywhere until he read the entire book and all of the notes.

It took him a moment before he realized that there was a note on a page not by Lao She, and stranger yet, it was written in Japanese.

_The first time I saw you smile at me, I’d been driving in circles for thirty minutes, lost. I’d refused to call for help, and you laughed at my stubbornness._

Masato quirked his eyebrow, then flipped to the next page to see there were two more notes that didn’t belong. Flipping ahead (carefully), he found notes on almost every page. Someone had been writing little romantic notes in the book! Masato shook his head, irritated. 

And yet... As he sat down to translate the notes by Lao She, he couldn’t help but read the other notes as well. Before he realized it, he was only reading those notes. Scanning each page just for the little romantic tidbits. His pulse started to quicken as the notes grew oddly familiar, and quite a few started to feel like they were about him. But that couldn’t be, could it? He continued reading the notes, couldn’t look away from the book or the small handwriting, and then it hit him. 

Masato just stared at a note that he knew couldn’t be written by anyone but Ryo... and couldn’t be about anyone but him... But his brain refused to believe it. There were dozens and of notes in this book. How could Ryo have thought about him so much? But this little note... it could only be him.

_I will never forget the taste of your lips when I kissed you in the stairwell after filming ended. I’ll never forget the feel of your hands on my chest, or the way you looked at me. I cannot forget, and it kills me that I may never feel or taste you again._

There was another note on the opposite page.

_I love the tone of your voice when you’re helping or teaching someone. I love the calm, knowing feeling it gives. I used to ask you questions about the script that I already knew the answers to just to hear you speak._

Masato read more notes, immediately remembering each moment, and gasped when a droplet fell on a page. Somehow, he was crying. The realization made him laugh a little, the sound echoing in the empty room that had been quiet for so long.

Shaking his head, smiling unlike he had in years, he set the book down and almost ran to his closet to throw on some clothes and grab his keys.

He was almost shaking as he stood in front of the door, having just pushed the bell. It took a couple of seconds, but eventually he heard the deadbolt turn and the door started to open. Ryo’s hair was a mess, his eyes sleepy, and Masato thought that perhaps the young man had been sleeping.

Ryo’s eyes came alive when he recognized Masato, though. His pretty mouth parting slightly as he gaped. Masato fought the urge to smile. He needed to hear Ryo tell him something first. A lot of somethings, really-- but that one thing was the most important.

Because then, he could finally say it too.

So they stared at each other for a moment, Ryo obviously shocked to find Masato on his doorstep. He’d hoped and prayed and wished that the notes would win Masato over, but he’d thought there’d at least be a phone call or an email-- but he wasn’t expecting this. Now Ryo was struggling to process all the feelings finally seeing Masato again brought to his body.

He hadn’t been prepared. Not at all.

“Can I come in?” Masato said softly, and saw Ryo swallow.

“Oh! Yes, please, come in. Let me move some stuff...” Ryo turned and started to move books he’d been reading off the couch, schlepping them on the floor instead. 

 

Sitting down, not taking his eyes off of Ryo, Masato said in that soft voice again, “I read your notes.”

“You did? Of course you did, you’re here...” Ryo was nervous, and he couldn’t decide where to put his hands after he sat down next to Masato on the couch, so he kept moving them.

“I guess you think about me a lot?” Masato added, eyes shining.

Ryo nodded, then blurted, “I love you.”

But as soon as he said it, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he just said that before knowing if Masato even liked his notes. Hell, Masato could be sitting there thinking Ryo was completely insane. He probably was. Oh god...

Ryo’s eyes flew open when he felt soft lips pressing against his own. It was a gentle kiss, a soft one, and his breath caught in his throat at the feel of it. Masato leaned in, placing a hand on Ryo’s thigh, and Ryo sighed. With that, Masato’s tongue slipped past his lips. Slowly, deliciously so, Masato tasted him. It was a sweet, decadent torture, and Ryo’s heart felt like it might burst.

They kissed for a long time that way, sweetly discovering and soothing each other. Both of them had been hurting, and this kiss was melting all of that pain away. But the heat was building between them, and it was a heat that could not be ignored. The kiss started to take on a sense of urgency, and when Masato sucked in Ryo’s lip, he was rewarded with a low moan.

Ryo brought up his hands to clutch Masato’s shirt. It was a thin cotton tee, and Ryo could feel the lean man’s torso beneath it. He shivered at the feel of Masato underneath his fingertips. He wanted him so badly.

Masato could see the bulge building in Ryo’s pants, felt himself hardening as well, and felt his control start to slip. It had been so long since he’d been with anyone. He hadn’t really wanted anyone since Ryo had kissed him on the stairs. No one could make him feel like Ryo did, and he’d hated that.

But not anymore. Masato moved to trail his lips over Ryo’s jawline and down his neck to his collarbone. Ryo murmured appreciatively as he nipped the exposed skin there, but Masato was quickly irritated by the shirt preventing him to kiss lower. Without a second thought, he grabbed the hem and pulled Ryo’s shirt up and over his head. 

“Oh god, you’re hot,” Masato muttered, reaching to skim his hands over Ryo’s chest. Ryo bit his lip as Masato’s fingertips grazed his nipples before running over his ribs and down towards his waistband. His hands rested there, just above the waistband of of the jeans. 

Ryo squirmed, all too aware of how close Masato’s hands were to his cock, and slanted his mouth over Masato’s in a hard kiss. The older man was eager to meet Ryo’s fervor, eager to taste all that he could of the man, and brought his hands to Ryo’s fly.

As he unzipped, he heard Ryo groan. Masato quickly freed the younger man’s hardness, and stroked it slowly. He relished the strangled sound Ryo made as he oh so slowly pumped him. When he removed his hand, Ryo made a clearly frustrated sound and looked at Masato beseechingly.

“Lie back, Ryo,” Masato whispered, smiling slightly. When Ryo did, Masato slipped his pants and underwear down and off, exposing all of Ryo. Trembling, Ryo pulled Masato’s lips down to his for another kiss. Masato let him, planning to never deny a kiss from Ryo again, before moving so he could lower his head to taste Ryo’s length.

“Mnhnf” Ryo closed his eyes at the heat of Masato’s mouth closing over the tip. Just as slowly as he’d pumped him before, Masato’s head started bobbing up and down, taking all of Ryo into his mouth. His lips slid smoothly, and his tongue trailed the throbbing veins as he moved. Ryo couldn’t help but cry out again when Masato’s tongue circled the head.

He didn’t notice Masato reach into his jean pocket to retrieve a small tube. But Ryo did whine when Masato removed his mouth to look at him. 

“I want to take you, Ryo. Do you want me to?”

Ryo immediately understood, and nodded his head. Unable to form the necessary words, he just licked his lips and watched the lube as it slid over Masato’s fingers. His voice was low when he said, “Ok. I’m going to touch you now.”

Ryo tensed slightly at the feeling of a slick fingertip just barely touching his entrance. Then, as a shiver ran through him, he felt the fingertip pressing until it started to ease inside. Ryo bit his lip. It felt so different, that pressure.

The finger started to move, slowly at first, but as Ryo started to relax, the finger picked up speed. Ryo was starting to enjoy the sensation when a second finger was added, and he bit his lip harder at the stretching. Tensing up again, Ryo held his breath as the fingers began scissoring inside him.

“Breathe, Ryo,” Masato murmured, dropping a kiss onto Ryo’s chest. Ryo exhaled in response, concentrating on relaxing. Soon, Ryo realized he was starting to enjoy the slick pressure of the fingers sliding in and out. But then the third finger was added, and Ryo couldn’t help but make a sound at the pain. He was on the verge of asking Masato to stop when the fingers hit that spot within him, causing his entire body to lift off the couch.

After that, the fingers continued to hit it again and again as they moved. Ryo was writhing beneath Masato, nearly panting, and Masato couldn’t hold back any longer. Deciding Ryo was as ready as he was going to be, Masato freed his own length and quickly spread the lube over himself.

Ryo hissed as Masato started to enter him, just the tip inside. Masato waited a moment to let him adjust, then rocked his hips slowly, entering the younger man inch by tantalizing inch. Ryo was so tight and hot around him. It took every ounce of restraint in Masato’s body not to just thrust into him, and his patience was soon rewarded. 

Quickly, Ryo was raising his hips to meet Masato. Nearly growling, Masato rocked his hips against him and started to thrust earnestly. The speed increased, and Ryo wrapped his arms around Masato as they both came closer to the edge. Hips snapping, Masato slanted his mouth over Ryo’s, relishing the taste and strangled sounds Ryo made every time Masato hit that spot. He could feel the tremor run through Ryo’s body to clench around his length each time, and Masato groaned.

He knew he was getting close and took Ryo’s hardness into his slick palm to start pumping in time with his own thrusts. Ryo was definitely panting by then, and it wasn’t long before Masato felt him shudder and release into his hand. As Ryo tensed, body jerking against Masato’s hand, Masato started thrusting faster-- eager to join Ryo. He came, hard, and then collapsed, gasping, onto a very satiated Ryo.

“I love you, too” he whispered, “But you destroyed the value of the book.”

“No I didn’t,” Ryo retorted, “It’s definitely more precious now. Isn’t it?”

“I guess--”

“You guess?!”

“I’m just teasing, it is,” Masato smiled and ran a tired hand through

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I'm not an expert on Chinese literature, but I do realize that Lao She was kind of a gimme. I also want to point out that I have no idea if he would have written in a book like that, or even used one to teach... I'm also pretty sure that if it did exist, it wouldn't be passed around like it was in my story. 
> 
> Also, this was originally published at my lj: http://silver-ring5.livejournal.com


End file.
